


WT: The Sultry Seaman

by CasandHisBurntWings67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Blood Kink, Bottom Dean, Choking, Creature Castiel, Dom Castiel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hunter Dean, Incubus Balthazar, Incubus Castiel, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Smut, Spanking, Top Benny, Top Castiel, Vampire Benny, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasandHisBurntWings67/pseuds/CasandHisBurntWings67
Summary: Five dead bodies, all with their throats ripped out and all with over-dose levels of oxytocin in their blood.All signs point to a rogue sex demon, feasting on humans who visit the sexually charged, supernatural club called the Sultry Seaman.Lawfully appointed Dean Winchester, lead detective within the Hunter Squad of the police, specialised in hunting supernatural perpetrators, may be well in over his head when the owner of the Sultry Seaman, the infamous Castiel Novak, sets his unnatural blue sights on him.But hey, being the meat between monsters has always been Dean's hidden fantasy





	1. Your Friendly Neighbourhood Sex Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there my lovelies! This is my second fic and will be a much longer instalment. I couldn't tell you how long it will be, but trust me, it will be fucking filthy. 
> 
> I will be updating weekly, as regular as I can and I'm planning on touching on a range of kinks so there should a little something for everyone in here. I will be updating the tags as I go along and trigger warnings will be posted at the beginning of every chapter. Of course, as usual, if I miss any trigger warnings please let me know, and I will add them immediately. Thanks guys
> 
> There is a fair bit of explicit Dean/Benny in the beginning of this fic. Dean and Cas do become much more exclusive a little further into the story.
> 
> And of course, Sam will receive plenty of page time so please don't worry! Our favourite aspiring lawyer will be playing a key pivotal role in not just being an ass kicking badass, but also as a meddling little shit of a brother.
> 
> So sit back, and enjoy the ride ;D
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mild gore, mildly dubious consent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dead body, another day.

It was the fifth body this month.

This time it was a female, late twenties, throat ripped out, and Dean didn’t need the toxicology report to tell him her blood would be saturated with oxytocin.

He crouched, stretching out a gloved hand to gently turn the victim’s wrist. Rain droplets slid over her greying skin, catching in the fine hairs, and turning a faint pink as it caught the ink stamped there. Dean could just make out the faint outline of an anchor curled in a fish net, twin cursive ‘S’s embedded in its circular rope border.

“ _The Sultry Seaman_.” Dean muttered.

“Whassat, chief?”

Dean laid her wrist back onto the concrete, his fingers lingering on her cold skin, as if to offer comfort to a soul who died in agony. He grunted softly as he straightened, his knees popping. Finally dragging his gaze from the dead body, he met Benny’s questioning frown. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his thick coat against the showering rain.

“Same MO as the sonvabitch we’re hunting.”

Benny nodded. “Can smell the oxy from here.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the tightness behind his eyes to go.

“When was the last time you slept, brother?” Benny reached for Dean’s shoulder, but Dean dodged it, passing it off as another adjustment of his coat.

“Dossent matter.” Dean huffed. “We need to go back to the club.”

Benny scoffed. “Still find that damn name offensive.”

Dean grinned. “What? You think sailors ain’t sultry?”

Benny jerked his fisherman’s hat back on and eyed Dean from underneath it, his southern drawl dropping another octave. “Do I look damn sultry to you?”

Sharp sparks pinched down Dean’s spine.

_Dean gasped as Benny slammed him into the motel door, his thick, cold body was an immovable wall and Dean arched into him, throwing his head back. Benny buried his face into the exposed skin, breathing deep. Dean moaned as he felt Benny drag his teeth over his throat._

_“Fuck, Benny.”_

_Benny bucked into him, impossibly strong fingers digging into Dean’s plush ass, jerking their hips together. Dean’s nails dug and clawed over Benny’s shoulders, slipping over his dress shirt, burning his fingertips._

_“Fuck, Benny!”_

_“You sing so pretty,_ cher."  _Benny growled into his jugular, his fangs sinking down from his gums. “I’m going to make you scream for me.”_

“Let’s just get to the damn club.” Dean turned away, his soft dress shoes whispering over the pavement of the alleyway. He strode out into the dimly light street, the rain lightening to only a soft fall, sharpening the massive neon sign of an anchor curled in a fish net, with _The Sultry Seaman_ in hot pink cursive embedded into its circular rope border. The sign looked out of place without its twin spotlights twirling into the sky. In its place were the red and blue police lights, and the usual subsonic base that rattled his bones was eerily silent, rough and shaky voices intermingled together in the cold air.

Heavy footsteps halted behind him. “You take the bouncer and the outside line, I’ll take the inside.”

“Yes, chief.” Benny muttered and slid past him, his fingers sneakily brushing over the swell of his ass. Dean inhaled sharply, Benny’s husky scent settling deep into his lungs with the crisp air. Dean scowled at the back of his head, and tightened his coat around himself, and stomped to the club entrance, quickly flashing his badge to the beat cop and climbed down the stairs.

The club was a huge underground complex with three separate levels. The upper level, fondly named ‘The Rim’, was for everyone, human and supernatural alike. It was wall to wall mirrors, with poles and rusty cages surrounding the sprawling bar in the shape of an octopus. Dean’s shoes stuck with each step, shuffling the white confetti. People in all states of undress were talking to uniforms, who were scribbling furiously.

Dean carried on, turning the corner, sparing a passing glance into a nearby mirror. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and a deep, permanent scowl on his face, made no better by the grimace he gave himself. He kept walking and jammed his finger into the ‘down’ arrow button for the elevator, not noticing the light didn’t come on as a _ding_ came from his pocket. He quickly groped for his phone, fighting through the soft silk of his inseam.

**SAM**

**_Dean, was there another spn murder at the ss? lemme know._ **

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course his know-it-all brother would still have his police scanner.

**TO: SAM**

**_yeah, definitely same mo benny could smell oxy_ **

**SAM**

**_How are you two?_ **

Nope _._ Dean was not answering that question. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and jammed his finger into the down button again.

Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he casually glanced to his left.

He smiled at Dean, all secrets and dark promises. Rich blue eyes, pupils wide, wider than any human's, lined with kohl, seeming to shift darker as Dean acknowledged him. He was leaning against the mirrored wall, thick black hair curled like sea foam, lightly dancing at the edge of his sharp jawline. He was wearing a midnight blue shirt that hugged his broad chest and strained over his biceps. His arms were crossed, his sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Dean refused to allow his eyes more than a cursory glance to his very tight leather pants, that cradled a hefty bulge he refused to acknowledge.

“Hello, Dean.” His voice was a thundering roll, hint of a thick, full bodied accent slipping between his lips. His tongue slipped out, moistening his lips.

“Castiel.” Dean replied stiffly.

“Were you looking for me?”

Dean turned fully, facing the owner of _The Sultry Seaman_. “Yes, I was.” He reached for his back pocket without dropping his eyes, and pulled out his notebook and pen. He flipped it open, pen poised over the page. “Are you aware there is another deceased human outside your club?”

Castiel’s face dropped. “Yes, I am aware.” He said softly.

Dean eyed him from under his brow, pen still poised on the page. “Do you have any information regarding that?”

Castiel shook his head. “No.”

“Look, Castiel.” He jammed his notepad away. “I know you’re lying.”

The owner’s eyes seemed to churn in their depths. “Do you?”

“Yes, Castiel. It’s pretty fucking obvious what’s doing this.”

Castiel stepped closer, well into his space, chin jutted towards the hunter. “And what...” Castiel’s voice rolled in his chest, “…is doing this, Dean?”

Dean gulped, feeling his skin crawl.

“Go on, hunter.” Castiel’s breath lingered over his face. Heat boiled in his gut. “Finish your sentence.”

“A sex demon.” Dean whispered.

Castiel’s head tilted, and his body curled closer, his eyes scrunching ever so slightly. His nose flared. “A sex demon? And what makes you so sure?”

“What do most victims of sex demons have in common?” Dean felt pinned, like his body wasn’t his.

Castiel seemed to consider this. “And what made you come–” Dean felt a shiver go through him, “ –all this way to find me?” Castiel’s nostrils flared.

Dean stepped back. “Cut out the sniffing, Lassy.”

Castiel chuckled. “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I am merely curious as to how a hunter of the law finds himself in the arms of a vampire.”

Dean felt his blood run cold. “H-how–”

Castiel smiled.

“Look _Castiel_ ,” Dean spat, “people are dying, a lot, and right on your doorstep. Doesn’t that give you any sense of responsibility?” Dean felt his throat catch with the volume of his shouting. He was vaguely aware of the silence pressing against them as the witnesses and cops paused, cut only by the stomps of heavy boots coming down stairs. “Do you have any sense of decency? Or are you truly a mons–”

All the air in Dean’s lungs emptied as Castiel drove him into the wall, his forearm like a bar of steel across his chest, his body as hard and unforgiving as the mirror at his back. Dean’s hands flew to Castiel’s chest. The owner’s lips brushed against his ear. “Don’t you presume to know me, hunter.” A soft exhale escaped Dean’s mouth, and he felt every inch of Castiel’s body as he pulled his face to his so they were nose to nose. “I could tear you apart in a heartbeat.” The hurried steps of several sets of dress shoes and the growing pounding of heavy boots echoed through their corridor. Castiel’s eyes lingered on Dean’s open mouth, tracing his gaze over the sheen of saliva on Dean’s bottom lip. Castiel’s mouth opened to match it, petite fangs beginning to drop down from his upper lip. A single drop of milky white liquid slid down one, and Dean's eyes fixed onto it, following its trail down the tooth to drip onto Castiel's bottom lip. Castiel’s voice dropped. “And I imagine you would beg for it.”

“HEY!” Castiel was snatched from him and thrown across the black tiles, a familiar snarl piercing Dean’s ear drums.

“Benny!”

The vampire turned to him, mouth full of fangs and eyes blazing steel grey. “You okay there, chief?” Benny kept glancing back to Castiel, who allowed the uniformed cops to cuff him and pull him to his feet. He was still smiling.

“I’m fine, let him go.”

“Dean! What the fuck are you–”

“Benny!” Dean yelled, cutting him off. He shivered little from cold. “We got nothin’. Let him go.”

The vampire scowled at him, opening his mouth to say more. Dean raised his eyebrow and Benny closed it, growling lowly. He turned to the officers. “Uncuff him.”

Dean fought to get his breathing back under control, thankful his coat covered his crotch. He raised his eyes. Castiel’s hair was a little wilder, his eyes brighter. A couple of buttons had burst from his shirt, revealing the press of a nipple and a stretch of tanned skin. He felt his face heat as he realised Castiel’s bulge had grown considerably. He snapped his head back up. Castiel’s tongue teased the edge of his mouth and at the tip of his fang, collecting the venom there, and he winked at the hunter, allowing his arms to swing back to his sides. He met Benny’s glare with a smirk.

“Hunter Lafitte, always a pleasure.” Castiel purred.

“We’ll be in touch, Novak.” Benny growled, his fangs still peaking out from between his teeth.

Castiel levelled his gaze with Dean. “I look forward to it.”

Benny stepped into between them, using his greater height to loom over him, until the owner looked up and tilted his head. Dean strained to look over Benny’s shoulder, and watched as Castiel’s nose flared, and a growl began to build in Benny’s chest.

“Cut out the pissing match.” Dean barked, and shoved himself off the mirror. He pulled at Benny’s shoulder and felt stupid when he didn’t move. “Dude, seriously. Knock it off.”

“Good bye, Dean.” Castiel purred. “I’ll see you soon.” He turned and strode away, disappearing into the crowd that had gathered around them. His employees followed.

“Seriously, Benny, what the fuck?”

Benny whirled, his coat flaring out. “No, Dean what the fuck with you? You let yourself get corner’d by a fuckin’ incubus? That thing is dangerous and probably our killer!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Ben–”

“Dean. This ain’t lookin’ good for your _friend_ here.”

“Oh yeah? What do we got?” Dean threw his hands in the air. “Five fucking bodies and oxy! That’s it!” Dean stomped past his partner. “Alright, show’s over folks. Finish your shit and go home.”

Heavy boots followed him. “Dean–“

Dean smacked his reaching hand away. “Fuck off, Benny.” The hunter felt his chest tighten at his partner’s hurt face, but his anger boiled it down for it to rear its ugly head later. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dean turned away and rushed up the stairs, bracing himself against the cold air that hit him like a sack of bricks. He ducked past employees, and cops, shoved his way past the press with nothing more than a muttered ‘no comment’.

Luckily, Baby wasn’t far. Dean practically ran to her sanctuary, and landed heavily inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He paused and swallowed, feeling his eyes burn. He jammed his keys into her ignition, her familiar rumble doing little to calm him.

“Fuckin’ monsters.” Dean spat, and tried to ignore the guilty bile rising in his throat.


	2. Unstoppable Force and the Immovable Object

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunter becomes the hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! Chapter 2 finally here!!! Lemme know what you think
> 
> Super explicit Dean/Benny to start off with so if that's not your cup of tea then skim it. 
> 
> A little more Dean/Cas and even a Balthazar cameo! I love him, he has this air of sexually charged sophistication, and it drives Dean insane :D

“Oh fuck, Benny!” Dean adjusted his death grip on the headboard, jaw aching from holding his mouth so slack as Benny slammed his pelvis forward, the vampire’s fat cock driving hard into him. The entire bed shuddered with them, with a _bangbangbang_ against the boat’s hull.

Benny’s fingers claw-gripped the writhing human’s hips as he pulled back out and yanked Dean like a rag doll back onto him, watching his back ripple. “ _Cher_.” Benny breathed, snapping forward sharply, wringing another strangled wail from Dean, which was bitten off as he was shoved forward and yanked back again. The vampire peeled one hand from Dean’s sweaty hip, sparing a moment to admire the darkening marks left behind, and curled his hand up Dean’s jaw. Benny felt the human whimper under his palm.

Pressed almost completely skin to skin, Benny changed from his animalistic pounding, to deep rolls. Dean gave a long, deep moan, his neglected cock jumping where it swung between his legs.

“Oh, _cher_ , oh _mon cher_.” Benny’s fingers slowly began to tighten on either side of Dean’s jaw. Dean gasped for air, giving little hiccups with every roll into his sore hole.

“Benny.” Dean strained, and tried to drop his head, but the vampire’s iron grip held his head up.

“Come for me, _cher_ ,” Benny whispered into his ear. Dean trembled in his grip, trying to shove his hips back onto Benny’s cock, shuddering under him.

Dean released a hand from the head board and reached between his legs. His fingers brushed his cockhead before Benny smacked it away. “Benny!” Dean choked, and the vampire snapped his hips forward sharply, making Dean jerk his hand back up to stop him from taking a nose dive into the wood.

“Mine.” The vampire growled, gently grazing his teeth on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean shuddered and arched, eyes welling. “All mine.” The vampire released Dean’s jaw. The hunter fell forward, inhaled a desperate lungful of air before Benny drove his length back into him, shoving all the air back out his lungs. With every thrust, little ‘uh-uh-uhs’ spilt from Dean’s throat as his climax clawed through his body. Benny curled a massive hand over his friend’s cock and jerked him quickly, his thrusts catching up. Dean threw his head back, and wailed, one hand reaching back to grab Benny’s side as he spilled over the vampire’s fist and the torn blanket.

Benny kept ramming him through his aftershocks, chasing his own release.

Dean’s head lolled from side to side. “Benny,” Dean moaned, trying to form words when his body was still being rocked with peaks. “Please…”

“What, _cher_? Anythin’.”

Dean exhaled deeply. “Come in me.”

Benny yanked Dean’s hips back, his jaw dropping slack as he shuddered and jerked, emptying deep into Dean. He dropped his head to Dean’s sweaty back, heaving and panting.

Slowly his cock softened, and he gently pulled out, wincing with Dean’s full body flinch and hiss.

Dean moaned and he buried his face into the pillow. “I can’t feel my legs.” He groused, his voice muffled. “I literally can’t feel my legs.”

Benny threw his head back and laughed, gingerly shuffling backwards to reach for the wet cloth he left on the night stand. Curled tightly around his hand, Benny gently wiped Dean, who yelped and winced in pain.

“Fuckin’ hell, dude, warn a guy.” Dean squirmed as Benny pressed the cold cloth against his hole. Benny dropped the cloth and buried his face into Dean’s upturned ass. Dean cried out, tearing the blanket underneath him a little more as Benny lapped up his mess. He pulled back, waited for the tremors rocking Dean’s body to still gradually, before shoving his face back in. Dean moaned into the shreds of the sheet beneath him and slammed the heel of his palm into the headboard.

“Easy, _cher_ ,” Benny soothed, stroking the swell of Dean’s ass. Dean mumbled something the pillow, and Benny felt the tension break from Dean’s frame. Benny smiled against his skin, and gently laid him to his side, crawling over to slot himself behind him. The vampire slid his arm across Dean’s hip, cupping upwards to his chest, and he laid a gentle kiss to the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean hummed softly, and pressed back, wiggling closer. Benny curled his fingers back into Dean’s hip, stilling him, and pressed his mouth to his ear. “If you wanna be able to walk at all today, _cher_ , I’d cut that out.”

A fine tremor rolled through Dean’s body, but he forced himself to still. Benny kissed the shell of his ear gently, and slid his hand back up to Dean’s chest, stroking over his heart. The vampire took deep, slow breaths, trying to assimilate Dean’s scent into his lungs, without Dean pulling away.

The boat rocked with the harbour water, the lapping current lulling Benny. Nothing existed outside this cabin and the warm body pressed against him, if only he had enough faith to believe it.

Dean peered over his shoulder. “What you smilin’ at?”

Benny cracked an eye, and then closed it. “I ain’t smilin’.”

Dean snorted. “You’ve got a grin a mile wide. What is it?”

Come to think of it, Benny’s cheeks were starting to ache a little. He tried to stop but his cheeks wouldn’t soften. “Nothin’.”

Dean wriggled and push himself over. Benny spread his fingers over his skin as Dean moved, and pulled him in close, lining their faces together so they were sharing a pillow.

“It’s not no-” Benny cut him off, slanting their mouths together and trailing his tongue over his bottom lip. Dean grumbled into the kiss, and Benny pressed harder, deepening it, until he felt Dean go pilant. The vampire slid his fingers under Dean’s thigh, and pulled his leg over him. Dean slid his hand up Benny’s jaw, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone.

Smiling widening as much as it could into the kiss, Benny rolled them, pulling Dean on top of him, and slotting their hips together, sliding his hand back over Dean’s hip. Dean curled his hands over Benny’s shoulders, cheekily sinking his teeth into Benny’s tongue.

Benny broke the kiss, shifting lower to nibble on his chin, to drag his teeth down his heaving neck, to latch onto Dean’s nipple. Dean’s hips snapped against Benny, and the vampire felt each strangled gasp echo in his chest, and flicked his tongue in quick swipes, savouring how the gasps turned to sharp whimpers, almost inaudible.

“ _Benny_ ,” Dean breathed, and the vampire clutched at him, holding him so there was no space between their skin.

A shrill rendition of _My Heart Will Go On_ pierced the room, and Benny flinched, peering up at Dean under his heavy brow, tongue still pressing against the reddened skin. The hunter bit his lip, trying, and failing, to suppress a boyish grin.

“I forgot I did that.”  Dean yelped indignantly as Benny threw him off. The vampire spared him a passing look to make sure he hadn’t fallen off the bed, before groping through their strewn clothes for the source of the offensive ringtone. He rifled through his jeans and pulled it out, answering without even checking the caller ID.

“Laffite.” Benny barked. He looked back at Dean who was rubbing at his chest, hand teasingly jerking his cock. He missed what the caller said. “What?”

“Jesus, Benny what crawled up your ass and died?”

Dean arched, groaning loudly, his hand speeding up. “I’m in the middle of somethin’.” Benny growled.

“Yeah I know what you’re in the middle of, sex crazed kids.” Jody laughed.

“Did you need somethin’?”

“Singer wants everyone in for debrief on the sex demon murders, if you can get your hands off each other for more than five minutes, I suggest you come in.” Jody paused. “Ha! No pun intended.”

Benny hung up the phone, throwing it back onto his jeans before sliding back into bed, snatching the lube from the bedside table as he kneeled between Dean’s legs.

“What was that about?”

Benny slicked himself up, threw the lube behind him and grabbed Dean’s hips. “Singer called,” he sunk himself back into Dean, who moaned with the burning stretch, chest heaving for air. The last inch, Benny snapped his pelvis against Dean’s ass, who threw his head back, jaw straining. “And he got an earful of you.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s fucking gross, Benny.”

Benny slowly withdrew, watching Dean’s ass pull against him. “That’s what you get for being a slut, _cher_.” He drove hard back in, shoving Dean’s legs wide when he tried to close them. Dean’s hands slammed into the headboard, bracing himself.

“Benny, c’mon. C’ _mon_.” The pain in his rear heightened the sparks of pleasure running up and down his spine.

“Nu-uh, Dean. You don’t get to tease and then decide the pace.” He slowly withdrew, and then rammed himself back in.

“Oh, I fucking hate you, Ben-NY.” Dean cried out as a particularly savage thrust caught his prostate.

Benny hesitated. “I know, _cher_. I know.”  He released one of Dean’s legs, grabbed his waist and sped up, snapping his hips hard and fast, until Dean’s body went taut as a bow. His hand flew down, a blur over his cock, and Benny couldn’t tear his eyes away. From the high flush of Dean’s cheeks, the smattering of freckles, the moisture in his eyes that he knew Dean would go to the grave denying, and the sound of his name spilling from the hunter’s swollen, blood flushed mouth. Benny could feel Dean’s mounting pleasure as if it was his own.

“Oh, oh, _oh_!.” Dean’s release splattered over his chest, and his fist, his back bowing, his body clenching tight around Benny. The vampire moaned, rolling his body against Dean, spilling deep into him. Benny collapsed onto Dean, feeling the staccato stutter of Dean’s heart against his cheek.

Silence, broken only by their heaving breathes and the lapping of the waves against the boat, settled between them.

“But genuinely who called?”

Benny chuckled. “Jody. We’ve been called in for debrief.” Benny jolted, caught unawares as Dean shoved him off, launching himself out of the bed.

“And you decided to fuck me instead of telling me that?” Benny could hear the little hitches of breath Dean made with every step he took. Dean disappeared into the bathroom, and turned on the shower.

“You was the one teasin’.” The vampire muttered, grabbing the wash cloth and cleaning himself off.

 

By the time Dean burst out from the bathroom, hastily drying himself off, wincing as he brushed between his legs, Benny was dressed and ready, sitting at the beaten up table, sipping at one of the two thermoses. He looked up from the letter in his hand.

Benny watched, mildly amused, as Dean hurried through the cabin, trying to shake creases out his clothes, hopping on one foot, yanking his dress pants on, wincing with each bounce.

“You alright there, _cher_?”

“No, Benny, I’m not fucking alright.” Dean hurriedly tried to do up his buttons, his tie over one shoulder. “We’re late to our own debrief, we’re going to get in together so you know we’re gonna get shit for it, and my ass feels like I sat on a baseball bat. So, no Benny, I’m not alright.”

Benny stood and reached for Dean’s shirt, deftly fixing the buttons. “It’ll be fine. We’re not late, we were called in without notice, and us turnin’ up together is only suspicious if you make it suspicious.” Dean watched Benny smooth his chest, and then exhaled deeply.

Benny reached for his tie and began to tie it. “And as for sitting on a baseball bat,” with a slow pull, the knot went into place at Dean’s throat, “you weren’t complainin’ ‘bout that at the time.” He pulled Dean in, placing a slow, burning kiss onto his mouth, pulling back before Dean could deepen it. “And you sure as hell won’t be complainin’ ‘bout it tonight.”

Dean shook his head, shrugged on his coat and fixed his collar. He spied the paper Benny had been holding on the table. "What's that?"

Benny sighed. "Another letter from the Navy. Apparently there's a new officer's position and they were offering it to me before anyone else."

"I still say you're an idiot for passing it up. What they get paid? It's a sweet gig."

Benny snorted. "And who will make sure you don't become some faerie's bitch?"

"Hey! That was one time and I scared the shit out of them! I was handling it."

"Sure, Dean. I'll let Oberon know when you're free next, alright?"

Dean punched Benny's arm, none to gently either."Fuck you."

The vampire pressed right into Dean's space. "Hmm haven't done that in while. Issat what you want?"

Dean licked his lips. "We'd better go." Dean snagged his briefcase, leather jacket, and thermos from the table. “We're talking about that later.” And turned to climb out the boat. Benny’s eyes dragged down his back to the plush ass in those dress pants, and couldn’t resist reaching out and giving it a hefty _smack_. Dean made an inhuman noise and froze on the stairs.

“Damn, sugar, that was a sexy note.”

Dean’s head whipped around and glared at him, before stomping up one stair, wincing, and gingerly climbing the rest. Benny chuckled and shook his head, following him to the impala.

…

“Nice of you to show up.” Singer drawled, eyeing them from the podium as they made their way to the front.

“Sorry, sir, bad traffic.” Dean muttered, hastily sat down, and immediately regretted it, grunting in pain. He felt his face fall, and he slowly looked up at Singer who was still eyeing him. There was a pregnant pause as Benny slowly sat down next to him.

“Mm-hm.” Snickers broke out over the room. Singer pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Now that our lead detectives have joined the party, we can begin.” Singer tapped his keyboard, and the projector hummed as it started back up from stand-by. The first slide was a high definition photo of the latest woman murdered. Dean felt his chest tighten.

“Another body was found outside _The Sultry Seaman_ last night at 0500 hours. Initial assessment by the coroner on scene set death to approximately 2300 hours the night before. The killing is being credited to our friendly neighbourhood sex demon, who has previously, to our knowledge, killed another four.” Singer tapped the keyboard again, and four pairs of photos snapped onto the screen; a smiling photo of each previous victim, paired with their crime scene photo, also in high definition.

“The same M.O ties all these sorry kids together. The only thing they have in common is they are between the ages of 18 and 26, and were misfits. Two of the now five victims were underage and weren’t meant to be there, and the other three were considered to be ‘outsiders’ by their circles, including our most recent vic.” Singer cleared his throat, pulling on his tie. “So, considerin’ the circumstances of our vics death, we’re operating under the assumption that what we’re huntin' is an incubus.” Seats creaked and dress pants whispered as they rubbed. Dean shook his head.

“Now the reason why we’re thinkin’ this is that fang imprints recovered from each vics’ throat have been confirmed to match the recorded mold and characteristics of that of incubi from the IAFFCIS. There is also the matter of the oxytocin overdoses. The coroner is still unsure if the vics died from the throat ripping or cardiac arrest from the oxytocin, but it’s been narrowed down to those two.” Singer gestured to the front row. “Harvelle, you have the floor.”

Jo Harvelle stood, a thick folder clutched to her chest. Her long blonde hair lashed back into a military style bun, a small flick of fringe denying its place, her shoes polished to perfection. She dropped the folder onto the podium, and tucked the rebellious lock of hair behind her ear, her lip trembling slightly. She looked to Dean, who smiled and nodded. She smiled back, flipping the folder open.

“Good mornin’ everyone. I’ll try to keep this brief. I know y’all don’t like shrinks at the best of times.” The hunters laughed softly, and Jo beamed. “So, we’ve narrowed our perp down to an incubus based on its kill areas. The Integrated Automated Fingerprint and Fang Identification System gives us the species of a particular branch of demon. In this instance, a branch of sex demon, which includes succubus as well as incubus, but every vic was found in public, while succubi tend to attack in private areas, in homes or much more secluded areas. So our perp is most likely an incubus, so most likely male presenting, age indeterminable, but likely looking about thirty to forty, possibly posing as a drug dealer, or an affluent person looking to score drugs, as three of the five vics had drugs on them.

“This perp has a rare charisma ability. He can convince you of anything; that he is trustworthy, that he is safe, that he is desirable. These kids were street smart, and from rough areas with one of the highest densities of the supernatural. Whilst incubi do naturally have charismatic abilities, this perp is especially good.” Jo licked her lips, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

“The only thing that is inconsistent with this theory is that all the vics had no signs of sexual assault. There were no abrasions, or tears, nor any foreign DNA. None of the vics showed signs of arousal prior to their death either. If this were an incubus, then he is killing for the pleasure of killing, not to get off. His appetite is for murder, not for sustenance, so he’s not gonna stop, neither is he gonna slow down. He’s gonna keep killin’ as long as he ain’t found, and we can expect a new vic within the month.” Jo collected her folder, and sat back down.

“Thank you, Harvelle.” Singer pulled off his glasses, taking a small moment to gather his thoughts. “There is a supernatural murderer out there, people. A supernatural murderer preying on our young and our vulnerable. This is crunch time. Cases like these are what prove our worth, or put us all out of a job, and has our department dissolved,” Singer looked directly at Dean, “so no sleepin’ on the job.” Dean felt his face heat, and he looked down at his shoes. “So let’s hunt this sonvabitch.” Singer turned and left, pulling on his tie as he went.

Dean didn’t move as everyone moved around him, bile rising in his throat.

“Dean, c’mon, we’ll get this guy, don’t you worry.” Benny stroked Dean’s thigh with a single, discreet finger by his side. Dean didn’t say anything, just stood up, yanking on his tie, and followed the crowd emptying the room. Benny shook his head, and touched his thumb to his lip, following behind him.

Dean kept his head down, face thunderous, glaring at anyone who tried to approach him as he made his way to his desk. He dumped his briefcase and jacket, lsinging the tie over the desk, and sat down gently. He stabbed his finger into the power button on his computer. It hummed and chugged on. Dean stared at it for two full seconds before standing up.

“I’m going to the scene.” Benny, who had just sat down at his desk next door blinked, and side-eyed Dean. Dean double checked he had his notebook, and shoved his chair in with more force then necessary. He pulled his jacket from under the wheels and shrugged it on.

“Now ‘ang on, Dea–”

“You can stay here and double check CCTV with Frank; he’s raving about running a 5-mile radius and I know that paranoid bastard will be hacking shop cameras without warrants–”

“Dean.”

“–Or you can check in with Jo; the more we can get on this incubus, the better we’ll be for it.”

“Dean!” The rest of the office stilled, and Benny lowered his voice. “Dean, what you thinkin’?”

Dean leaned on his knuckles on the desk. “I’m thinkin’ Benny, I just got my ass handed to me by Bobby in front of everyone, so I’m a little pissed. That smarmy fucker at the club knows something, and I’m gettin’ answers if I have to beat them out of him myself.”

“Then why bench me?”

“Well, I can’t imagine he’d be too mouthy with the guy that threw him across the goddamn floor, now would he?”

Benny growled low in his throat. “He had you pinned, Dean. You wanna be his next fuck toy?”

“I can handle myself, you stay here.”

“If this is about this mornin’–”

Dean huffed, rubbing his hand down his face. “Benny, please. Just stay here.”

Benny paused, his mouth closing slowly. He looked Dean up and down, his nose flaring slightly. “Fine.”

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Fine.” He snatched a pen from the desk and when he turned to leave, his phone blared _Barbie Girl_. Hastily choking the ringtone, Dean stared at Benny, eyes wide.

“I forgot I did that.” Benny mumbled, fighting a smirk.

Dean shook his head, feeling a little bit of tension loosen from his gut. “Old man.”

“I’ll see you tonight, _cher._ ” Dean felt his face heat, and quickly scanned the room. Benny sighed deeply, turning to his computer until Dean turned away, and watched him leave, the slight limp making him more than a little proud.

…

Dean cut the impala’s engine, and stared at _The Sultry Seaman_ from across the street. The lights were all off on the outside, but the door was manned by a lean, but built bouncer. Tall posture, chin high, eyes never remaining still on one spot; not the run of the mill gym junky on steroids. Something said military to Dean. _What is a club doing with an armed forces bouncer? In the middle of the day?_

Dean registered when the bouncer noticed him, but skillfully still slid his eyes away, except this time, keeping the car in his peripheries. Dean would bet money he’d already memorised not only the car’s make and model, but his number plate and face as well. _Definitely not an idiot._

Not dropping his gaze from the bouncer, Dean got out, and shut the car door. The bouncer dropped the pretense of not assessing him, straightening and discreetly stretching his shoulders. Without breaking eye contact, Dean pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge.

The bouncer blinked slowly, nose flaring. “Sorry, sir, the club is closed for a private function.”

Dean nodded. “I’ll be sure to be quiet.”

The bouncer shook his head. “Sorry, sir, it’s a _private_ function.”

“I heard you the first time, Mr…?”

The bouncer paused, seemingly taken aback. “Trekov.”

“Trekov?” Dean pursed his bottom lip, nodding. “Now, tell me, why is one of the few pure lycanmorph bloodlines guarding a strip club?”

A vein twitched in the side of Trekov’s head. “Sir, as I said, this is a _private_ function.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine a _function_ between two warring factions would be incredibly private, what with all the top dogs in one place.” Dean smiled, “no pun intended.” A growl began to rumble in the bouncer’s chest, and Dean grinned. “But what’s a hunter to think? Five people dead already, and now a _private_ function. You know, I could come back with another warrant, tear this place down properly, and I don’t think the alphas would be too impressed at the entire hunter division interrupting their _private_ function.”

Dean could see the cogs turning in the bouncer’s head. “One moment, sir.”

“Please, call me Dean.”

The bouncer grunted, pressing on his ear piece and firing off in a gruttal, snarling language. He stopped, eyed Dean up and down, who waved cheerily, and spoke again, voice disbelieving and low. He suddenly grinned, leering Dean’s way. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Hunter Winchester, he was expecting you.” He stepped aside, and pushed on the pitch-black door. It swung open easily, breaking the soundproof seal. The music was deep and melodic, almost trancelike.

“Expecting me?”

“Yessir. Please enjoy your stay at _The Sultry Seaman_.”

Dean stepped past him, and down the stairs. The music grew, vibrating his bones. Soft gasps and cries of pleasure, followed by the slick sound of flesh on flesh intertwined with the soundtrack. Thick, almost cloy scent of sweat and sex fell over Dean like a blanket, and he felt heat stir in his belly, his pants suddenly growing tight. He swore gently, and pulled out his shirt, trying to pull it below his belt line.

“Hazards of the gig, I’m afraid.”

Dean’s head snapped up, hand releasing his shirt as if it burned him. The voice was pompous and British, and the man had the tailored suit, his shirt buttoned almost halfway undone, and lanky body to match.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man raised his chin, tongue poking out one side of his mouth. “I’m Balthazar.”

Dean looked around. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?” He could only see the stairwell and the start of the dance floor from where the guy had him blocked.

He took a step closer, and Dean refused to step back. “You should, if you intend to be Castiel’s new mate.”

“His new wha–”

“Dean!” Castiel appeared from behind the corner, slipping past Balthazar, and pressing his body against Dean’s. Caught unawares, Dean jolted and almost lost his footing on the narrow staircase. Castiel slipped his arm around his back, and pulled him tightly to his body, running his nose along Dean’s jawline. “I missed you.”

“Aw, the two of you make me hungry.” Balthazar raised his glass of amber liquor.

Castiel purred against Dean’s neck, and curled his tongue behind his ear. Dean felt heat bolt through him as the venom sunk into his skin, and soft moan escaped his throat. Castiel pressed harder, and Dean vaguely heard Balthazar step down and away from them. He said something loud and jovial, and the room erupted in laughter.

Dean tried to shove Castiel off. Getting the hint, Castiel slowly pulled away, eyeing over his shoulder down the stairs.

“What the fuck was that about?” Dean snarled, pulling on his dress shirt.

“No, no, no, Dean, you need to be displaying that.” He reached for Dean’s crotch, cupping it, and Dean smacked his hand away.

“I swear to fucking God I will drag you back to the station right now and charge you with five counts of first degree supernatural murder if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Dean, keep you voice down.” Castiel eyed over his shoulder, and paused, listening through the music. His company still continued to talk, and couple together

“Castiel, what the fuck are you up to?”

Castiel grimaced. “You want to solve these murders, detective? I am how you get in.” Dean’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Although, it would be more convincing if you weren’t reeking of vampire. If you insist on sleeping with him, you’re going to have to stop letting him come inside you; you’re supposed to be marked as mine.”

Dean spluttered, his brain ticking like a gas hob that won’t light.

Castiel stared at him, rich blue eyes seeming to shift and glow. “Honestly Dean, I thought you were intelligent. I know this is a lot to take but do you trust me?”

“Absolutely fucking not.” Dean spat.

“Yes, that’s fair actually. Do you trust your gut then?” Dean frowned. “Dean, there’s more to this than your department thinks. I know that, deep down, you know this isn’t just your run of the mill rogue incubus, and the only way we figure this out is by getting you in.”

Dean stabbed a finger to his chest. “You lied to me then.”

Castiel blinked owlishly. “I didn’t think that would wound you so severely. Yes, Dean I lied to you, but now I’m telling you truth.”

“This is fuckin’ sketchy, man.”

“Dean, I will explain everything, but whispering in the stairwell will only arouse suspicion.” Castiel thread his fingers through Dean’s, holding firmly when he tried to pull away. “For the next five minutes, just shut up and follow my lead? Can you do that? Unless you want to be the next strung out corpse?”

“Cas–”

Castiel lunged, smashing their bodies together, and pinning Dean against the stairwell wall. He yelped in protest, allowing for Castiel’s’ skillful tongue to curl through his mouth. Dean gasped, his entire mouth exploding in tingles that spread down his throat, erupting through his body. Dean viciously grabbed the fine dress shirt he was wearing, almost tearing in between his fingers. Castiel purred low in his throat, pressing a thick, built thigh between Dean’s legs that made the hunter see stars, and groan into the incubus’ mouth. Castiel bit hard on the plush bottom lip he was worrying between his teeth, and Dean arched, fire racing up spine, pulling where Castiel’s teeth began to grind, humping Castiel’s thigh like it was his life’s ambition.

“My, my, Castiel, you two play rough.” Castiel pulled away, their lips smacking loudly. Castiel’s mouth was stained with blood, and Dean could feel it dripping from his lip. Curiously, Dean probed the torn skin with his tongue, and watched as Castiel’s eyes followed the motion, heat flaring in the inky depths. “Although you’re being awfully rude to our guests.”

“My apologies, Balth. I’ll try to restrain myself. Go back to your _ménage à douze_ , we’ll follow you.”

Balthazar chuckled. _Smarmy English bastard,_ Dean spat in his head, but the motor part of his brain seemed to be ticking dry again, stuck on _fuckfuckfuckcomecomecome_. “Don’t be too long. At least say goodbye to our guests before you… _retire_.” He left again, and Castiel’s head fell to Dean’s heaving chest.

“Ge’off me.” Dean shoved at Castiel, who slowly pulled his body away, keeping their hands interlocked. Dean felt cold despite the sweat beading on the back of his neck, and his pants were incredibly tight. “Fuck.” He hunched, cupping himself. “The fuck did you do to me?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” remorse was written all over his face, “I panicked. Come on, we need to get you away from here.”

Castiel began to pull Dean down the stairs, and Dean followed, stepping awkwardly.

They turned the corner and Dean’s eyes went saucer wide.

The club was swamped with dark blue lights, thick, almost fog light air swirling around the moving bodies. Supernatural creatures were wearing their characteristics openly, fangs and claws roving over the planes of flesh, humans who gave themselves freely, clothed in skimpy underwear or unclothed completely. Some were dancing in pairs or groups, dirty and lewd, whilst others were thrown over furniture, heavily petting, or openly servicing their inhuman masters.

Dean felt his mouth openly gaping, not knowing where to look. To the woman, giving a standing lap dance to kitsume on the dancefloor, thick, cast iron collar staining her neck, his tails followed his hands as he explored her backside, to the huge oni, laid back, spread over a lounge seat as her human’s head was buried between her legs, or to the hollering twink, being yanked up and down on a werewolf’s cock like a fleshlight until it drove his massive knot firmly home, roaring to the ceiling.

“I think he’s broken, Cassie.” Dean’s head snapped to a naked Balthazar, who was sprawled over across a massive love seat, more bed-like than any lounge chair Dean had ever seen. People writhed around him, rubbing and pawing at each other, a man and a woman sandwiched him, another pair buried between his legs, moaning and sucking loudly on him. Balthazar was grinning at him. “Has he never seen the delights of the underworld?”

“He is right here.” Dean spat, pointedly keeping his eyes high.

“Ohh fiesty.” Balthazar bucked, swinging his arm forward from around one of his companions, and sliding it through the long brown hair of the woman who’d swallowed him down, and began to suck him with purpose. “You always were a stickler for the fiery ones, and I do understand the appeal.” He moaned, mouth dropping open. “Makes them so much more satisfying to break.”

“Listen here you-”

“Dean, you have already met my business partner, Balthazar, who has a particular knack for pressing buttons.” Castiel glowered.

“All the right ones, ey Cassie?” Balthazar laughed at Castiel’s eye roll.

The man between Balthazar’s legs smiled dopily, getting to his knees and wrapping an arm around Cas’ leg. “C’mon, Cas. Join us.” His voice slurred as if he was drunk.

Castiel ran a hand through the man’s short hair affectionately, fingers lingering over his temple. “Not today, James.” Castiel cupped James’ jaw, and the human couldn’t help lean into his palm, eyes closing softly. “Enjoy each other adn dedicate an orgasm to me.” James nuzzled Castiel’s skin, before drunkenly crawling his way back into the group, pressing his face into the plush breasts of Balthazar’s other companion.

Castiel pulled on Dean’s hand, quickly striding towards the elevators. “Come on.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! _Ah!_ ” Balthazar’s gasp was followed by a feminine cry of pleasure.

Dean grimaced. “That’s a sound I’ll never get out of my head.” Castiel delicately pressed the ‘down’ arrow, and then pulled them in when the doors opened. When they were in, Dean yanked his hand back. “Let go of me.”

Castiel pressed the lowest button on the column, and the elevator hummed as it descended.

Silence filled the small space, and the heat radiating from Castiel was making Dean’s skin itch. He resisted the urge to try and pull his shirt down again.

“I knew this place was a strip club but that was something else.”

“It’s not a strip club.” The elevator _dinged_ again and the doors opened, revealing a pitch-black expanse. He stepped out and lights began to glow with his presence, illuminating a large, open apartment. It was humbly furnished, with dark grey carpet, beaten couches and an old tv. The only expensive piece was a wall dominating bookcase that stretched to the ceiling and ran down the long side of the space. It was full of books, in multiple languages, ranging from religious tomes, scientific textbooks, and even some young adult fiction.

Dean hurriedly followed before the elevator closed on him. He followed Castiel, who had turned a slight corner into the kitchen. Some of the tiles on the wall above the sink were cracked.

“What do you mean, not a strip club?” Castiel pulled out a bottle of whiskey probably as old as himself, and poured two tumblers half full. He shoved one in Dean’s direction before swallowing his own down in three deep gulps, pouring himself another. Dean caught the glass before it slipped off the edge of the counter, almost missing it as his eyes were following the bob of Castiel’s throat. “Jesus Cas, calm down.”

The incubus paused, his second glass raised to his lips. He put the glass down slowly. “I’m sorry, Dean. The… events we hold can be quite confronting to humans.” Castiel licked his lips. “Well, humans not joining in it.”

Dean took a small sip of his glass, and choked, eyes watering furiously. “Fuck,” he coughed, “that’s some serious shit.”

Castiel stepped around the corner, rubbing Dean’s back, concern wrinkling his features. Dean held his hand up. “I’m alright, quit the mothering.” He took another sip, swallowing down the burn, staring Castiel down as if to say, ‘see I’m not a pussy’. Castiel didn’t seem convinced.

“What do you mean by not a strip club?”

“Exactly that. The festivities, or what you call a ‘strip club’, we hold for humans is mostly to engage with the area, and advertise our more… exclusive services.” Castiel took another mouthful of his tumbler. “We’re more of a brothel really.”

Dean spat, spraying Castiel with whiskey, coughing so hard his entire chest ached. “What – what the fuck you mean brothel?”

Castiel gave Dean an incredulous look. Dean swallowed hard at the heat in Castiel’s eyes as he delicately swiped a finger along his cheekbone and sucked the whiskey from it. “Did you not see upstairs?” He grabbed a towel hanging from the stove behind him and wiped his face. “Did you want me to take you back up? Perhaps give you a tour of the booths and dungeons as well?”

“You have _what?_ ”

“Dungeons. For bondage and discipline scenes.”

“What the fuck is this place?!”

Castiel sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Dean resisted the urge to ruffle the thick black locks himself, if only the fix how it listed heavily to one side. “It’s Balthazar’s, mostly. We started off as a haven, a safe space for us monsters to hide at any hour of the day. We were a neutral party, no blood feuds crossed our threshold, which meant–”

“Orgies ‘til sundown?”

“It meant refuge from those who would seek to murder us for the crimes of our birth.” Castiel scowled at Dean, and the hunter felt hot oil slide down his back. “We could come here, be openly ourselves. And when humans caught wind of it, all kinds of people, from all walks of life, embraced us.”

“Doing a lot more than embracin’, that’s for sure.”

“And fucked us.” Castiel smirked at Dean’s eyes widening. “We didn’t invite them, Dean, they strode in and gave themselves to us, seeking a thrill their own kind couldn’t give them, and, naturally, ever the entrepreneur, Balthazar created a facility that catered to all needs. Including a salt water pool, housing Oсьминог.”

“Ahs-manog?”

“No, os-min-norg, an octopus demon.”

Dean felt like all the air had vacated his lungs and Castiel grinned. “I take it you know exactly how one might use a tentacled beast for pleasure.” Castiel strode gracefully to Dean’s side, body cocooning against Dean’s a hairsbreadth away. “Tell me, Hunter, do you watch a lot of hentai? Or only when you’re in a particular mood?”

Dean licked his lips, throat catching. Heat radiated from Castiel’s body, and his traitorous flesh ached to feel it pressed against him again. He knew how Castiel felt, pressing on him as if the incubus wanted to ravish him, own him, and Dean had to fight to tell himself why that was a bad idea.

“Particular mood.” Dean looked away from Castiel’s plush mouth, open and inviting, begging to be kissed. It was still covered in blood, _his_ blood, staining its natural ruby colour rusty crimson, flaking at the edges. Dean knew he looked no better. “Although I don’t see how my porn habits have anything to do with the fact you set me up.”

Castiel straightened, leaning against the counter on his elbows, staring at space. “No I suppose not.”

Dean felt cold again. “Dude, just tell me why.”

“Dean, you have no idea the danger you were in, coming back here in the middle of the day, especially so close to the summer solstice-”

“Stow the crap, Castiel and answer my fucking question.”

When Sammy and Dean had been younger, they had set of fireworks in an empty park on the fourth of July. One of the flares had been too slow, and when Dean went to put it out properly, it had gone off. He had jumped six feet in the air and rolled viciously to escape the heat and flying sparks that rained over his body. The entire world spun and he felt like his skin was crawling with fire.

When Castiel rounded on him, shoved him a few feet back, and pinned him against the wall, it had a similar, if more intense, feeling.

 _Finally_ , Dean’s body said, relaxing and tensing deliciously at the same time.

“You should show me some respect.” Castiel growled against him, his accent thickening, and Dean felt his heart kick up a notch, like prey seeing the jaws of a predator just before the killing bite. “You have no idea the forces of nature you dangle yourself in front of. We are not cute pets from your stories, we are the things you crawled from in the dead of night, what you built this great empire to escape from. You pretend that stories of _Baba Yaga_ don’t frighten you, that you are civilised now, and stronger.” Castiel leant in, pressing his mouth to Dean’s ear. The hunter’s mouth dropped involuntarily, shivering. “But, deep down, you know you are but prey, meat on borrowed time as the predators close in ever closer.” He pulled his face back until they were nose to nose.

“Your gun and badge will not protect you in the dark, Dean. Nor will it still the chomping jaws of the beasts that would use your body like a toy and discard you, wretched and ruined.” Castiel shoved his thigh between Dean’s legs, and Dean cried out, strangled and strained. Pleasure tremoured through his body, and Castiel began to rock him, driving his thigh up in circles. Dean’s fingers scrabbled against his shoulders, clinging for dear life.

Castiel ran his fingers up Dean’s back, under his shirt, groping and pulling at his skin, lifting the material high. Dean’s arms fell over Castiel, and the incubus pressed closer, rocking his entire pelvis up into Dean.

“I have watched cities rise and fall with time, I have stilled hundreds of breaths and you think that your arrogance and closeted beast-fever is enough to cross swords with me, boy?” Castiel licked a stripe up Dean’s neck, biting on his jaw. Dean gasped, squirming as fresh venom raced through his veins like liquid fire. “You’re a fang banger at best,” he spat the words like they offended him, “and at your worst, a beast’s whore who would take anything offered as long as it was vicious and all-consuming.” His thrusting kicked up a notch and Dean moaned, undulating a-rhythmically.

“I can give you that, Dean.” Castiel purred. “I know the _vampire_ can’t give you that. Only I can silence the chaos inside your mind, all doubt and guilt melted away for pleasure and bliss.” His voice was beginning to crack, Dean looked down on him as a sweat droplet ran down the side of his forehead. He lunged forward and licked it off, feeling Castiel’s hips stutter. Dean moaned, sinking his hands into Castiel’s hair, pulling viciously.

“I can see the secrets you hide, Dean.” Castiel gasped, bouncing Dean against him, slamming his shoulders against the wall. Dean buried his head into Castiel’s neck, the incubus’ voice growling directly into his ear, and he screwed his eyes tightly shut. gasping with each collision of their hips. “How you bluster and parade around like you are a king, when I can see the hunger within you, feel the longing. You are the ultimate temptation, Dean."

"Castiel," Dean tried to sound threatening, but his voice was too broken, too desperate.

Castiel slid his tongue against Dean's bottom lip, and the hunter smashed their mouths together, no finesse, no technique, just raw hunger, and Castiel took it. He swallowed Dean's moans, chased his tongue. The clotted wound on Dean's lip bled anew and Castiel lapped at the blood.

"Castiel!" Dean cried, pleasure racing up his spine, pooling in his gut.

"Yes, Dean." Castiel snarled. "Give it to me."

Dean's body locked up, and he threw his head back, his voice shattering the quiet of the apartment, echoing as if through the world, splattering the inside of his boxers with his release. Castiel kept rocking his hips against him, transfixed by the beautiful hunter's face, all ecstacy and wonder. The incubus felt his pleasure almost secondary to the stunning creature above him. Dean gave small, little broken moans as his body twitched and jumped. Castiel peppered his jawline with kisses and small licks, making Dean's hips buck, and his cock dribble just a little more.

Skirting the edge of coming, Castiel breathed deeply, calming his body as he held Dean. 

"Still didn't answer my question, you fuckin'-"

But Castiel didn't get to find out what he was, as Dean's eyes slid shut and he slumped against the incubus.

Castiel grinned into his neck, and pressed another kissed at his exposed skin. He gently pulled the hunter away from the wall, cradling his weight like weighed no more than a child. 

He left the kitchen and walked through the lounge room to the other side of the space, pushing open his bedroom door. Inside was a superking sized bed, accented with curling cast iron waves and sturdy posters that were cemented into the foundation. 

As softly laying a lover to sleep, Castiel gently put Dean down, and painstakingly slowly stripped him until he was only in his boxers. He wanted to clean Dean properly, to rid him of what will be an uncomfortable mess when he woke up, but Castiel knew Dean would hate him for it, and just the thought made his hands shake.

He laid the blanket over him.

Staring down onto Dean's sleeping face, the deep circles didn't seem so stark, the harsh, bitter lines of guilt and rage smoothed to the delicacy and softness Castiel always suspected Dean naturally possessed. Castiel stroked the back of his fingers over the hunter's cheek, and felt warmth in his chest. A warmth that made his stomach jump in his gut and his heart ache.

Castiel snatched his hand back, worrying his thumb into his palm. The warmth soured, and he fled the room, but not before gently closing the door on the sleeping hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17/04/17: Sorry guys! Chapter three is on its way! I've been flooded with uni work and moving house. I am working my little (well big ;D) tush off to get the third chapter out. Please be patient a few days longer and you will be greatly rewarded :D
> 
> 11/12/17  
> Edit: By few days, apparently I meant a few (8??) months. I'm planning to get another two chapters: one before Christmas and one not long after. Thank you for your patience.


	3. The Deep Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt a rage, old and hungry, simmering in his gut, threatening to boil over as it had so long ago. 
> 
> A rage he had hid deep down in the dark; in the hind brain of every person that still howled in the night; an aspect of the soul that civilisation failed to fully beat back into the abyss.

_Benny dug his fingers into his jaw, pulling his head from where it hung, almost touching the floor. He whimpered, waiting for the next blow to his ass._

_"Awww, I think we broke him."_

_Behind him came the dark chuckle of a predator, clawed hands dragging over his hips, drawing tiny droplets of blood in their wake. The sting made him whine._

_"Is he right, Dean?" Castiel's hand drew back and struck his tender skin. Dean cried out, as wide as he could with Benny's iron grip on his throat. "Have we pushed you too far?"_

_Benny reached under the hunter, curling his fingers around his straining length. Dean's body locked and shuddered as the vampire ever-so gently pulled on it, thumbing at the leaking head._

_"Not enough. Not yet." Benny's fangs dropped, eyeing Castiel from over Dean's head. Benny pulled the hunter up to his knees, pressing him back into the wall of Castiel's body, who peppered kisses between Benny's fingers._

_Castiel hummed low in his throat as Dean tried to speak. "Shhh, we know what you need." A strangled gasp fought through his throat as he felt Castiel's teeth drag against his nape. Benny leaned in, lapping Dean's bobbing Adam's apple. The vampire's hand slowly dropped away, tilting his head into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean's body shuddered with fine tremours as Castiel slid his head to the opposite side._

_"Hmm, so beautiful." Castiel whispered. "So delicious." With a growl, Castiel sunk his teeth deep into his skin. Dean howled, pain and pure, unfiltered pleasure drowning him as his cock spent itself onto Benny's stomach._

_"So pretty." Benny snarled and bit his other side. Hot, wet blood poured down his chest and back, and Dean's vision blurred, black rimming its edges, until it consumed him..._

Dean woke instantly, his entire body locked tight. His chest was heaving, his neck tingling where their teeth had tore his flesh. He rubbed at the skin, half expecting to feel the fang marks there. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. That dream had felt so real.

So real that he could feel - no, the cum in his boxers was real. He grimaced, peeling the stained material from his cock.

A knock at the door and he snatched his hand away, tugging the cover over him. Dean hesitated, searching for his jeans. The knock came more incessant, and Dean noticed it was lower down the door, and sounded awkward, like it was a foot scuffling against the wood.

"Uh, come in?"

"Dean, I - uh - I didn't think this through. I can't open the door."

Dean blinked, and snorted, sliding out the bed. At the last minute, he snagged the cover and wrapped it around his hips. Awkwardly, the hunter shuffled to the door and pulled it open to a frazzled Castiel.

The incubus' hair was a whirlwind, his threadbare t-shirt hung off one shoulder and cradled in his hands was a scuffed wooden tray. On a plate was a steaming pile of fluffy eggs, peppered with spring onions and bacon, over two thick cut, buttered slices of bread. Two large mugs sat beside a pitcher of dark coffee, a jug of milk and a small bowl of raw sugar with a tiny spoon. A knife and fork sat delicately on a napkin beside the plate. 

Dean's jaw dropped, and his stomach snarled at him. "Wow, Cas."

Castiel shifted, switching his weight from one foot to another. "I thought you'd be hungry but I don't cook much on the count that I don't eat much human food, though I am partial to hamburgers, they make me-"

"Whoa, Cas. I think that's the most I've ever heard you speak." _Without it being purred into my ear_ , he finished silently. Dean went to take the tray, but fumbled with the cover around his hips.

Castiel smiled, his cheeks darkening slightly. "It's okay, Dean. Go back to bed."

The 'go back to bed' made Dean pause, and Castiel narrowed his eyes, searching Dean's face. The hunter shuffled back, his knees locked between the covers as he penguin marched away and sat down.

Castiel followed him, eyes roaming over Dean's back. He paused at the bedside. "You're going to need to put your feet up, Dean." 

"Right." Dean swung his legs up, and Castiel waited patiently for the hunter to get comfortable, freeing his legs from the cover's grip, and settling back into the pillows. When Dean stopped shifting, Castiel gently laid the tray over Dean's legs. "Castiel, really, you didn't need to-"

"I know," Castiel pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to right the stretched material, and failing miserably. "I wanted to. It was the least I could do, considering the circumstances. Incubus venom makes humans very hungry I've been told. Half our budget is dedicated to food and kitchen staffing-" Castiel caught himself, giving Dean a shy smile before adjusting his t-shirt over his shoulder.

Dean ducked his head as well, fighting against the smirk pulling at his lips. The incubus was nervous, Dean realised. A sex demon was ~~~~adorably ( _what the fuck? No, not adorably)_ nervous about his reaction to his cooking.  _What is my life?_

"Dean." The hunter looked up, and felt his face heat with how intently Castiel was staring at him, boring holes into his skull. "Eat. Please. Before it goes cold."

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he picked up the cutlery, that shone as if they'd been recently polished, and cut a small portion from the pile, wrapping his lips around the fork as gently as he could. His eyes rolled back and he moaned deep in his throat, chewing zealously. He missed the way Castiel's breath hitched, his tongue sneaking out to lap up a tiny trickle of venom that had escaped his mouth. "Oh, Cas." He shovelled another forkful into his mouth. "T'is amazin'."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel discreetly adjusted his crotch when Dean dived down for another forkful. "I aim to please." 

Dean snorted, sending little egg squiggles onto the cover. He chewed hastily, swallowing too much at once. "Is that what you say to all the girls?" Castiel grinned, revealing petite little fangs. _Funny, they didn't seem all that small before_.

"I usually don't have to say that much." 

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, _that_ doesn't sound sketchy, man."

Castiel's face fell, and Dean felt his chest clench. "I'm sorry for how that came across, Dean. I didn't mean it that way at all. See, usually people just throw themselves at me, there isn't much talking."

"Getting laid all the time without the bullshit small talk? Sounds like the life, man." He poured the dark coffee into one of the mugs, and took a mouthful. It was rich and delicious, the 'month's salary' kind of coffee.

"I prefer that 'bullshit'." Castiel said quietly, almost to himself. He sat on the bed, sliding up to Dean's hip to reach for the other mug.

"No, I got it." Dean put his cup down and took the mug from Castiel's hands, pouring the coffee into it. "Milk?" Castiel nodded.

"And four sugars." Dean's eyebrows shot to his hairline, and Castiel's eyes shifted left to right.  "What?"

"You want some coffee with your sugar?"

"I like my coffee sweet."

"Alright." Dean spooned in the sugar, stirred and handed the mug back. Castiel curled his fingers over the side, brushing Dean's hand. They paused, fingers touching, until Dean pulled away. "Sorry, you were saying?"

Castiel took a mouthful, and a rumbling purr began in his chest. Dean fought down another smile, refusing (and failing) to think the 'a' word. "I was saying that I like the small talk. Humans are fascinating." 

Dean snorted, shovelling another forkful into his mouth. "Hardly. Not much goin' on."

"I have to respectfully disagree, Dean." Castiel gave Dean a soft smile and the hunter froze, captivated. The purring grew subtly louder. "Are you aware that every human has their own unique flavour?"

Dean choked, washing down the stray eggs with scalding coffee. "I'm sorry what?"

Castiel patted Dean's back, his fingers lingering over the hunter's shoulder. "Flavour. From your aura. Each living thing has its own aura, and certain species that are finely attuned to auras can identity them," he leaned in, conspiratorially, and Dean fought against a snigger at how ridiculous Cas looked leaning in like that, gazing up at him from under his brow. "Especially sex demons, who can develop quite adept skills at reading them."

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"It shouldn't be." Castiel took another long mouthful from his cup. "There's a reason that even humans seem to magnetise. Even weak as your senses are, your aura's still sing to each other."

Dean gulped down the last forkful off eggs. "Aura's or not, man, these eggs were amazin'. How the hell do you know how to cook?"

Castiel grinned. "I am, first and foremost, a gentlemen, Hunter Winchester." Castiel glanced quickly at the duvet covering Dean. The purring dimmed, and Dean missed the smooth rumbling. "Although my recent behaviour has been considerably otherwise." Castiel looked away from Dean. "I am sorry, Dean."

Dean's chewing slowed. He set his cutlery down, and swallowed. "You know who is killing these people." 

Castiel closed his eyes. "I have my suspicions, as do you." The incubus opened his eyes, and rubbed the back of his neck, setting his hair on a funny angle. "There is so much at work here, Dean."

Dean tried to catch his gaze. "Enlighten me then."

Castiel shook his head. "So much you wouldn't understand. So much you and your division don't understand."

Dean's jaw clenched. "Get me my clothes." 

Castiel looked up, his mouth ajar every so slightly, hurt on his face. "Dean, please-"

"I said, get me my clothes." He shoved the tray off his legs, and into Castiel's lap. He jumped grabbing the tray before it fell, getting to his feet. Dean slid out the bed gingerly, before realising moving didn't hurt anymore. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

Castiel opened his mouth, and closed it again. "It's the venom, it can heal human aches and pains if..." Castiel swallowed. "Under certain circumstances."

"Ain't that nifty." It comes out snappier than he intended, and Castiel flinched, the cutlery rattling.

"Dean-"

"It's really fucking simple, Cas. Either you tell me who or what is behind these murders or I'm dragging you to the station for questioning as a material witness."

The rich blue of Castiel's eyes was flat and stoney. "Threatening me will get you no-where, hunter."

Dean eyed him. "I'm sure that would've sounded more sinister if you weren't trying to play Paula Dean."

Castiel's bottom lip trembled ever so slightly, so slight, Dean almost doubted he'd seen it, but he knew he had. He fought the urge to reach out, and draw the incubus back to him.  _Already a bitch for incubus venom, fuck me._

Dean watched as Castiel took a long moment to compose himself. When he spoke, his voice was purposefully measured. "I don't know who has been killing these children, not for sure." 

"That's fucking-"

"But I was hoping," Castiel continued, voice firmer, "we could work it out together." He turned towards the open door, and strode towards it, calling over his shoulder, "your clothes are on the dresser,' before leaving the room.

Dean's head shot to the nondescript set of draws in the corner of the room, eyes landing on a neatly folded set of clothes. He glanced at the doorway and then shot to them, quickly grabbing them. Beside them, next to his phone, notebook, wallet and keys, to his utter embarrassment, was a packet of high quality baby wipes. Eyeing the door again, he quickly snatched a couple, wiping inside his boxers the best he could, before yanking on his clothes. His shirt was freshly washed with fabric softener, his pants ironed to perfection, his shoes freshly polished.  _Is this what incubi do while their snack has a nap?_

He finished dressing, briefly looked around for a bin, grimaced, and shoved the soiled baby wipes in his pocket, before hurriedly leaving the room. He debated making the bed, pausing at the doorway, before shaking his head and leaving. He found Castiel in the kitchen, who was angrily washing dishes, pointedly not looking his way. He had on neon yellow, hideous washing gloves, his t-shirt splattered with thick bubbles. Dean curled his lips inward, fighting unexpected laughter, before schooling his features into, what he hoped, a firm scowl.

Neither of them said anything until Castiel was finished. He slipped off the gloves, hung them on the side of the counter and lifted his head to Dean. 

They stared at each other, the faint rumbling of loud music the only sound.

Dean broke first, running a hand through his hair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Cas, c'mon. Help me here."

"And how, exactly, Hunter, am I supposed to help you, when you refuse to listen to me?" Castiel locked his fist onto his hip.

Dean threw his hands up. "Alright, I'll listen." He strode forward, grabbed a chair from the table and pulled it out to face Castiel. He dropped into it heavily, legs open. He opened his arms in a 'see?' way, and then crossed them, staring Castiel down.

Castiel swallowed, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth, hesitated and then opened it again. "There are rumours of an Alpha in transit, in transit for this city." Dean's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "The Alpha Nympth, to be exact."

Dean whistled lowly, leaning forward. "The Alpha Nympth? Fucking hell."

Castiel nodded. "She rarely leaves her great expanse in Yellowstone, but something has drawn her attention, something I know you're not going to happy about, but please, try to be open minded."

Dean went to protest, but then closed his mouth, keeping Castiel's gaze.

Castiel licked his lips. "She's coming for the Summer Solstice. She's coming for a fertility rite that would see a massive increase in her kind, and-"

"No fuckin' way." Dean growled.

"Dean, I swear to your god, shut the fuck up and let me finish."

The hunter jerked surprised and ( _shut up_ ) a little aroused.

Castiel sighed and continued. "She is coming for a fertility rite that would increase her kind, and re-establish her place in our world. Nymphs have been dying in their thousands, with cleared forests and harsh pesticides, they're almost extinct." Castiel was talking quickly now, afraid Dean would interrupt him, and worried he wouldn't get his theory out. "This rite may be her only chance to save her species."

Dean frowned. "Why the rush? There's a summer solstice every year."

"This is the only solstice in almost 70 years where there is a full moon."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course it fuckin' is."

"A fertility rite on a full moon almost guarantees she will be successful in saving her population."

"And how does this explain the murders?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "I believe someone is trying to capitalise on the full moon as well. Someone who would seek to extinguish the Alpha Nymph and her kind, and take the raw power of the rite for themselves."

Dean stood. "Who? Who in their right mind would go against an Alpha? Only an idiot or a-" Dean froze.

"Or," Castiel finished for him, stepping around the counter, and into Dean's space. "Another Alpha."

Dean's stomach dropped. "Another Alpha." Dean echoed. "There's hasn't been two Alphas in the same city since... shit, since I don't know when."

"Since the Saint Valentine Day Massacre in 1929." Castiel answered, grimacing. 

"Fucking hell," Dean breathed.

"The Alpha Nympth is supposed to be arriving the day before the solstice, one week from now."

"When's the other Alpha coming?"

Castiel shook his head. "He's already here."

"You're wrong." Dean growled, hands clenched so tight he could feel his short nails biting into his palms.

Castiel held up his hands, face pleading. "Dean, I assure you. I'm not wrong."

Dean stabbed his finger close to Castiel's face. "You're wrong. No supernatural moves without our division knowing. Especially not a fucking _Alpha_. You're fucking _wrong_."

"Dean, that's the issue." Castiel looked tormented, his lip chewed a ruby, enticing, red. "He never left."

Dean felt like his brain was stuttering like an old engine.

Castiel looked him up and down, his hands almost reaching for him, before thinking better of it. He clenched his hands too and said, very softly, and with the up most care of someone saying something very difficult to hear, "It's Azazel."

_Snapping, cracking, roar of fire. Blistering heat clawing at his skin. Stench of burning pork._

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. "You're wrong." He whispered. 

"It's only a theory, Dean. I could be." But he said it with reluctant uncertainty.

Because who didn't know of the raging fire set by the Alpha Demon of Chaos? Who didn't know the story of the fiery demise of one the world's greatest hunters, Mary Winchester? 

Who didn't remember the front page photo of a young boy, clutching his baby brother in his swaddle, stained by soot, and ash, and haunting memories?

"He never left." Dean whispered.

He felt a rage, old and hungry, simmering in his gut, threatening to boil over as it had so long ago. A rage he had hid deep down in the dark; in the hind brain of every person that still howled in the night; an aspect of the soul that civilisation failed to fully beat back into the abyss. 

"He never left." Dean said again, in a growl so deep, Castiel felt it in his chest.

Dean lifted his head, not remembering when it had dropped, and stared Castiel dead in the eye, and the incubus, to his utter astonishment, felt just a slither of fear. 

"He's gonna wish he had."


End file.
